


Hitting the Wall

by upallnightstrungtight



Series: transgression [2]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: Bisexual Character, Experimental, F/F, F/M, Implied abuse, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Mental Illness, mildly canon-divergent AU, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She must fly or fall into the abyss. (how it didn’t happen, side B, told in years and fragments)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hitting the Wall

She's five. She's already learned the hard way to stop telling her mom to say daughter instead of son. It's the first of lots of things she keeps to herself. She gets really, really good at that.

*

She’s sixteen. She goes out with every girl whose interest is obvious enough. She likes girls, likes the softness and the prettiness, and especially the ones with a fierce fire beneath who make her heart race. She’s respectful and attentive and tries to do the nice things like on TV in the modicum of free time she has, and she somehow manages to disappoint every single one, three of them this year. She must not be what they were expecting. She’s never been quite what _anyone_ was expecting. Maybe one day, someone will actually like her even when they know her.

*

She’s twenty. She wishes she minded sharing a bed with Kyuhyun a little more. Or, no, neutral would be better, wouldn’t it? She offers because she feels bad for him, pretending every time that it didn’t affect her. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong by accepting, after all, so it’s not really fair.

*

She's twenty-one. She has no idea whether she's going to lose Kyuhyun forever. She prays, pleads that she'll take good care of him and tell him everything if he could please just wake up, _please_. She doesn’t _have_ anything worthwhile, but she'd promise everything away to have him back. This time, she’s the one being surprised. It's the first time she considers the possibility that there might be more important things than getting by, even if she's not quite ready to accept what that might mean.

A few days later, her promise comes due. She fusses over him and tells him how much he means to her, how scared she was, though she can’t look directly at him and he remains silent throughout. She says everything else, but when she turns to go and tries to say it, keep her promise to tell her final secret, it won't come out. "I..." It's stuck. She tells herself it's better off staying inside. "I'm so happy to see you awake," she says instead. It'll have to do.

When he rejoins them, she gets him a glass of water whenever he asks, helps him take his pain medication on bad days, holds his shaking hand when he pops awake and wipes the sweat off his forehead. It’ll have to do.

*

She finds herself following rules that supposedly aren’t meant for her, rules about how to sit and how to talk, and then she has to catch _that_ and switch it to the set that the world insists is for her, pushes on her until she’s running out of air. The whole process makes her sick to her stomach.

*

She’s twenty-three. It’s blown up beyond imagination, they’re _everywhere_ , this is getting huge. There’s no turning back now. A quiet life was never what she was going for anyway.

*

Kyuhyun has locked out the rest of the world and most of the light. The wine has relaxed her, and he's looking at her fondly. She feels all kinds of warm.

"I found something for you earlier today," he says, pulling out something small and white, strewn with glittery pale pink dots. She thinks that he might've stolen it, thinks how this is ridiculous like a drama, but. But. He's clipping it into her hair, gentle like he isn't anywhere else. "Very pretty."

"Is this a joke?" She doesn't want to ask, but she's known him long enough to wonder. He’s not necessarily the most… observant of others sometimes. This is, to say the least, unexpected.

"No, I'm not joking. Look, this is going to sound cheesy, but... something about you makes me want to protect you. Sungmin-ah..." Biting the corner of his lip, he looks at her intently, making her feel like porcelain. It's strangely pleasant. No one else treats her like this, and she honestly might deck them if they did, but Kyuhyun’s different. She’s inexorably drawn to his boldness.

"I like you," she says. "I really like you."

"Good," he answers with a little smirk, coming closer after never having moved away. Her heart's racing and she feels a new warmth added to the fray, a spark of arousal shocking her as his lips finally touch hers. For a moment, she feels outside of time entirely, everything else fading out of existence. Boom, boom, boom, back in as his hands rest on her waist, excitement and panic all at once, wanting nothing more than for him to keep touching her. She’s present in this moment in a new and jarring way. She’s aware of every inch of herself. "I like you too," he says, gratuitous but seared into her mind.

Kyuhyun can see right through her, she could swear right now. Can he see how badly she _wants_? She tries to calm down, reminds herself that he's not entirely unfamiliar with body issues. Still... "But are you okay? That I'm... like this?" Sungmin wraps her arms around herself and looks away, _guiltshamefear_ stealing her, eyes feeling unable to focus. She still can't say the words, regardless of how clear it is to both of them. How clear he made it.

"I wouldn't have kissed you if I wasn't." His fingers grasp her chin, feather-light, as he guides more than pushes her to look at him again. Softly, slowly, he smoothes her hair back, and his all-consuming focus on her keeps her in his orbit. Piano floats in the background, deep velvet curling around them. "I like **you**."

*

Sungmin doesn’t remember who sent her the nightgown, but wearing it is her boldest act in a long time. In the dim light, she looks down and smiles. The sheer joy of it scares her so much that she wears it every night, regardless of what anyone else says. No complaints come from Kyuhyun on the matter.

*

“Honey, you’re a bit obsessed with martial arts,” Kyuhyun tells her one day, sotto voce, a low rumble of a chuckle the current carrying his words. Eyes shining, he’s wearing that annoying smirk, and her life would be so much easier if she didn’t find it stupidly hot. She sniffs and tightens the cloth belt.

“You’re one to talk, gamekyu. Anyway, I think it looks cool,” Sungmin says, disdainful of his lack of taste.

“Okay, sure, sometimes. A little.” Moving to face her, he traces her lapels, thumbs just barely brushing the skin beneath. She places her palm on his cheek, watching his smirk grow deeper, then uses her whole hand to shove his face away.

“You’re such an asshole.” He laughs as he stumbles over his own feet. Without meaning to, she joins in.

*

Every time her hair gets cut short again, she thinks _Normal._ And she thinks _Wrong._ And she thinks _Safe._ She doesn’t want the body they all want her to have, but she’s practical, understands action and reaction and running faster just to stay in place, she’s going to keep trying even though she’d much rather keep her softness. The pain of it is a good punishment for the atrocity that the mirror inflicts upon her, and for her, too, for wanting it to be different, for being a freak, an abomination. She’s the battlefield; at least the physical pain can flood out the emotional for a little while. Her anger looks like intensity, and it’s _just fine_ , damnit.

 _You fucked up piece of shit, every single thing about you is wrong,_ Sungmin thinks at her reflection, _look at your fucking shoulders, look at your goddamned hands, you sick bastard you’re supposed to be **happy** you’re supposed to you’re supposed to don’t sit that way don’t make that face don’t give me that look_ \- she’s shaking, there’re mirrors everywhere and she’s shaking, she can’t get away from them, not allowed to destroy them- stop. **Stop**. Full stop, restart, load the well-practiced subroutine and run it, **run goddamnit**. Sungmin punches through the cushion of gloves and a stranger punches holes into her ear with a needle and that keeps it contained. Supposed to can go to hell. The kisses Kyuhyun sprinkles across her belly afterwards warm her all the way through. “Mine,” he says. “All mine.” For a handful of precious minutes, the roaring inside her is soothed, blessedly quiet.

*

“Smile, darling.” Click. Click. And on the other hand, outside, exactly when she doesn’t want to be looked at, clickclickclick.

*

Even as they’re leaving right from being told to tone it down, the rumors are getting too serious, Kyuhyun’s grinning and winking at her. _That stubborn **jackass**_ , Sungmin thinks, feeling her teeth grind together. At least she fucking bothered to look contrite. “At least _pretend_ to care, will you? You’re putting my future at risk too.”

“Ha! No way, the whole thing’s too funny. But you wanna know what the best part is?” He has that excited grin of competition, the same one he gets before it’s absorbed by concentration. It gives her an unwanted flutter in her stomach, because she’s angry and she has every right to be. “It’s exactly that I’m not supposed to do it.” Before she can put together a response, his hands cover her cheeks and he rests his forehead against hers, eyes wide and wild. “You and me against the world, babe,” he mutters. He coaxes her lips open with his own, the smooth slide jolting every nerve ending to attention, and she finds herself panting into his mouth. If he’s robbing a bank, she’s driving the getaway car.

Footsteps tap, tap, tap into the kitchen and right back out. She’s too busy holding him by handfuls of the shoulders of his shirt to care who. “You’re nothing but trouble,” she growls before pulling him back in.

*

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Hyukjae asks her between gulps from his water bottle. _That’s not fair_ , she thinks.

“What about you?” Sungmin shoots back, scowling. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“That’s different. I can handle it. Play it up, get some laughs, it slides right off me,” he says, full of his trademark oblivious confidence. “You, though… Your face shows everything.”

 _Nonononono_ , _that can’t be true, it can’t, I can’t-_

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Hyukjae’s grip on her shoulders pulls her back. “Just be careful, alright? That’s all I’m saying.”

“You too,” she manages with a brittle smile.

*

No one ever asks her why she goes home so rarely, but she always has an answer ready anyway. It comforts her to put her thoughts in order the same way she arranges their books and CDs and pictures, precise, neat, leaving no gaps.

*

 _Huh…_ _This game’s actually a pretty decent distraction. Die, creepy bug fuckers!_

*

The what-if game is one that comes up a lot. Her honey likes to think about these things, put them together like an imaginary photo album. Imagination’s the only place where they can hit the highlights instead of having to live through every bit of drudgery. “I’d start with the cliché of all clichés, dinner and a movie. You’d be all dressed up for me, I’d feed you little bites from my plate, we’d hold hands and be one of those all-around disgustingly sweet couples.”

She hums happily into his chest, squeezing his side. “I bet you’d even kiss me in public and scandalize all the old ladies.”

“Yeah, I would if I could,” he says with a sigh, a touch wistful and sad. He strokes her hair slowly and lets out a deep breath.

“Oh, how about a road trip to somewhere far-off and beautiful? Unspoiled nature, indie rock, laughing from the sheer joy of freedom and the open road. That one’s another classic.” She hums contently, remembering waves under the stars, the roads slow and the sand hardly unspoiled, but it was just right. The clink of glass and his moonlit eyes felt like enough to keep her going until the end of time.

“Yeah, that’s a good one. A world where no one ever runs out of gas or has a bad cell phone signal. Unless it’s a horror movie. Speaking of which,” he thumps the edge of the bed with his hand, too loud this close to her, “a festival or a carnival. That one sounds really good, actually. _Food_.” His groan is a touch obscene.

“Some romantic you are! Leaving me for food even in your _dreams,_ ” she says, pouting and poking his cheek. It’s ridiculous how they’re fighting about this made-up scene, ridiculous and fun and absolutely perfect.

“Okay, fine. I’d play some ridiculous rigged game and somehow win you some meter-tall stuffed animal that I have to carry around.”

“Are you calling me weak, asshole?” He ignores her objection, so she hits his chest with her forehead. Just a little bit.

“I’m not stupid! You think I don’t know my girlfriend can kick my ass?” But he says it through a chortle, that insolent little wretch. She narrows her eyes and crouches over him, ready to pounce at the first sign of hesitation. He takes the opportunity to grab her butt instead, smiling wide and happy with palms firmly pressing on either side of her tailbone. Her unamused glower prompts his hands move to massage her lower back instead, relaxing her back down as his fingers travel up. “Come on, I’m not done. You’d change its name every week, but I wouldn’t care because you’d have that beautiful smile I love every time you look at the stupid thing.”

Melting a tiny bit is allowed. “Kyuhyun-ah…” Her shoulders drop with the release of tension. “I don’t need all that. I still really like you.”

“I really like you too.” There’s that softness again, only for her to see, hear, have.

*

She’s twenty-five. Now that she’s going too, she can maybe admit that she missed him last time, that phone calls weren’t enough, but only to herself. He doesn’t need to know more than a picture of one lonely wine glass told him. He already knows how much trouble she’s having with a barrage of inflections and phrases that the rest of them have already had years to learn, and he laughs at her significantly less than expected between his careful coaching. He’s yet to lead her astray. Plus, he’s generous with his rewards.

*

Ryeowook asks her one day, quietly but too casual, “Do you think anyone else is different, or is it only three of us?” She nearly bolts into the nearest wall.

“Let’s not talk about that,” she pleads, a shiver running through her.

*

_Lazy good-for-nothing scum. Get up! You think anyone gives a shit about you? You think the world’s gonna wait for you? Get up. Get **up**!_

*

No doubt about it, Kyuhyun’s way of putting on lip balm is much more fun than doing it herself.

*

A pang always goes through her when taking off the wig and the dress, no matter how itchy the damned thing was. No one else seems to have that problem. Honestly, Ryeowook always looks like he wants to chuck the whole thing into the trash. While the others are finishing up, she always preens in front of the mirror beforehand, saying, “Look, I’m so pretty, I’m a very pretty lady,” making faces at herself from different angles. Giving even Heechul some competition in the vanity department usually got the laughs and ribbing she expected, and playing along makes it safe.

It no longer escapes her notice how Kyuhyun stays back, standing silently with just the barest hint of a smile. But, out there, under the bright lights, it’s not right because everyone’s staring at her and thinking how funny it is because it’s fake while she feels more real and comfortable than almost any other time. If it wasn’t temporary, a costume, they wouldn’t be so happy about it. Sometimes, she feels so _alone_. She overcompensates with smiles and laughs and thousands of cheers and shrieks and promises to make it enough.

*

It's simple, but pretty. They don’t quite match, but that’s to be expected; Kyuhyun’s audacious, not stupid. In a daydream, she wonders if they'll ever be able to upgrade them. She thinks fondly of their little private space, remembering pulling him down onto her and his mouth on her neck, the way he pushed her thigh up and his unwavering ardent attention, heavy-lidded and thrillingly confident, telling her, “Mine. All mine.” Ducking her head, she looks around to see if anyone noticed her sappy smile. _Whew, all clear._

*

She trembles awake, gasping, heart pounding and she just barely manages to keep quiet enough to not wake the entire floor. She presses her hands against her face to hide the dampness; sleep had _finally_ come and now it’s gone again. It’s all too easy to find the holes in between the watch of eyes where she could get away with ending the pain. She’s tempted to sneak another drink instead, tear the room apart in the process, but Kyuhyun’s not letting her get away with that for once. This time, he’s the one turning on the lamp, dimming it as low as it can go, doing the holding and the nearly imperceptible rocking, listening to the silence of no questions and no explanations. _It’s easier being on the other side of this_ , she thinks bitterly, but makes no move to push him away. A soft, somber song soothes her back into slumber, but she can’t remember a single word of it in the morning.

It might just be breakfast, a bit of cheerful chatter, their feet bumping into each other under the table, but the most he can give is plenty. Later, when the sky's gray and they’ve returned to sanctuary, he pours liquid peace from his mouth into hers, pressing solid and unrelenting. The bittersharppain is calming. Her mouth hangs open despite her best efforts, her blinks are slow and her eyes feel huge from trying to keep them open. “I liike dis one. An’ you. We sh’do this moare, ‘kay?” Upright’s too much work. Lie down time now.

”You’re so fucking cute,” he says. He’s probably laughing at her, but she’s too comfortable curled up around him to care.

*

“Teukie-hyung, you’re wrong,” Sungmin says, scooting closer to be heard in the interminable wait. So much goddamned waiting. “I’m not normal. I don’t want you to go.” His arm around her shoulders is little comfort against how soon it’ll be gone.

“That’s completely normal. I don’t wanna go either.”

She doesn’t explain further.

*

She’s twenty-seven. it's been four wonderful years of stolen kisses and romance and adoring even the flaws, of the sweetness of him above her with shining eyes and the occasional need for a well-placed scarf and more affirmation than she ever thought she'd get, no matter that it had to stay behind closed doors. Out there, she'd be whoever she had to; in here, it was her and it was them and it was incredible. She puts lotion on his visible scars, massaging it in, and he kisses her invisible ones, each easing the depth the tiniest amount. But she feels the clock ticking, feels her mother's sharp gaze and knows how her leash grows short. She'd rather go of her own volition than be yanked back. She'd rather choose her pain.

“I have to try one more time... to be normal. You should try to forget about me." _Calm, stay calm, the least you can do is stay calm._ But Kyuhyun certainly doesn’t.

"Normal? Is there a single thing about our lives that's **normal**?!" It’s the kind of fury that’s never been directed at her, cold and distant.

She doesn’t answer for long, fist-clenching seconds. Finally, it comes out in a spray of venom. “I’m going to get _married_ and have _kids_ and live a _normal fucking life_. I refuse to be whispered about and looked at like I’m some kind of **monster**!”

“Fine,” he says, baring his clenched teeth. “Then I’ll be the only monster here, because I’m not going to change my feelings for people who don’t matter to me.” What felt like exhilirating boldness before has an overlay of callousness now. Does he really not care where this road leads? Is he refusing to understand reality?

“Don’t talk like I’m doing something wrong!” Walking out before she gets any louder is all she has left.

*

She didn’t realize how much it would hurt. It wasn’t just the loss of him, though that leaves her feeling shredded, and she doesn’t know how to interact with him anymore. No, the surprising part is how much it hurts to not be _seen_. They try, the both of them, try to not to show it, but the robotic sadness bleeds through. She finally gets her own room. She lets herself get caught up in doing more and more and more, pushes for it, pushes through. Pushing through is what she does best. Maybe, if she can just do normal things, she’ll feel more normal.

They slowly find their way back to a middle ground, an island where they’re farther than they were before but closer than the last few months. He makes no further effort to change her mind. She appreciates it only a little more than it makes her sad.

*

When Ryeowook comes to her for advice, woefully unqualified her, she feels an ache that will leave one day, she reminds herself, and desperately hopes that he’ll be happy.

*

She finds a woman who’s gorgeous, matches the parts that Sungmin likes about herself, and has that ferocity that makes her heart race. Also, she likes that her mother doesn’t approve but won’t stop her. This is the boldest she’s ever felt. She dotes on the other woman, laughs with her, proposes to her.

She’s on the cusp of twenty-nine. _This is right. I can be happy_ , she thinks. Kyuhyun doesn’t come to the wedding. She owes him at least that much.

*

She's thirty-four. She thinks in circles between naps and jolting awake, Kyuhyun intertwining his fingers with hers even half-asleep. She wonders how long it could be before she gets to see her daughter again and it takes all her willpower to not crush his hand. Then, she ponders the deceptively innocent piece of paper sitting at the bottom of her bag, contemplates change and permanence and she’s just plain scared. _Too far ahead. Get through this week first, get your head clear. Hell, get through **today**._ She stares out the window, not seeing even what little there isn’t to see while refusing to cry here. The blanket of blankness is an old habit, easier than feeling, easy to slip into.

When her phone finally has signal again, Ryeowook’s message is first in a giant queue. Sungmin stares at it uncomprehendingly for at least twenty seconds, finally deciphering it and starting the long chain of sorting out where she is, that she’s fine, no she hasn’t eaten dinner yet, yes her hotel has internet, yes of course she took her laptop, a video call sounds good, and tons of trivialities and emoticons. Ryeowook might think she’s going to fall apart without a distraction, or he might be calming his own nerves instead. She’s too exhausted to tell. Once their bags are set down in a hotel room, all bright colors and mahogany furniture, she gathers her voice. "Why did you help me? Why did you come back?"

"Why did you give me the chance in the first place? Really, you’re asking me that as if I had a choice.” Kyuhyun sighs. “I tried really hard not to," he whispers as if it pains him to admit it, embracing her so close that even his breath warms her, no longer like porcelain, but with all his strength. He's acknowledging her steel with his own. "But you’re still mine, and I know what's important. I will always protect the woman I love." It’s okay that she’s crying right now. She has to remove her makeup before bed anyway. Light as it is, it felt like a protector. Kyuhyun’s lips are warm against her forehead, his thumb traversing up the wet trail from her jaw to her cheek. “If we’re gonna be monsters anyway, let’s crush the puny humans getting in our way.” Snapping his teeth and grinning wide, he looks like an idiot, and she absolutely loves it. The easy way he said “we”, unthinking, pierces through her heart.

“I couldn’t do it anymore,” she says without prompting, choked by misery that refuses to stay inside, growing so heavy that it tears through the cement walls built to contain it. “Eating was hard, sleeping was hard - you never actually get used to a lack of sleep. **You** know. And, and, every time I drove, I th-thought about turning into a lampost or the rails, I thought about jumping into the sea,” she says through a sob. “Can you believe it? _Me_?” Her laughter sounds pathetic even to herself. He presses a kiss to her shoulder and says nothing. “I, fuck, I really thought it was gonna work, but everything I had didn’t stop it, and then it wasn’t, **I** wasn’t enough. I didn’t… wanna hurt anyone…”

“Shhh, I know, I know, it’s okay,” Kyuhyun murmurs as he squeezes her close. It’s really not, but hearing it in his voice makes her feel a bit better anyway. The problem with normal is that one has to actually be normal underneath, and that was never part of the deal she was implicitly offered. She’d rather not have found out the hard way.

*

They finally get that dinner and a movie, after a long drive to fewer eyes out of gut-clenching old habit ( _safesafesafe_ ), so it covers about half of the flights of fancy. Actually, she changes in a secluded grove he finds partway, giggling all the while, so that’s two out of three. _It’s a cliché for a reason_ , she thinks, giddier than she’s felt in at least a decade. With the intense look he gives her as her mouth closes around his fork, licking his lips almost absentmindedly, she’s certain she looks as good in red as she ever did in pink. He doesn’t even complain about her heels bringing her up to his height. As it turns out, when he presses his lips to hers, soft and sweet, while his hand props open the car door, no old ladies were scandalized in the making of this dream come true.

*

It feels good to throw on jeans and a t-shirt now that it’s one option instead of her best option. No alarm is a nice novelty, and she stirs her coffee languidly while she waits for the call. Kyuhyun’s taking full advantage as well, still lazing in bed. Back home, it’s already evening, so it shouldn’t be long now.

When it loads, she’s comforted by a familiar sight. They're pressed together cheek to cheek, one of Henry's arms wrapped tight around Ryeowook's shoulder and curling around to the front. "Noona! Noona! Noona!" They both say it over and over like eager children, waving excitedly, glints of silver moving in tandem. Really, neither of them have slowed down at all. "Noona! I got your email! I didn't know you were like me," Ryeowook says, "but the other way. Noona! Don't feel lonely!"

Donghae pops into the frame with a quick, “Heyhey!” and gives her a thumbs up and dorky smile. She can’t help but smile back.

"You have more friends than you think, noona. But," Henry winces, "maybe stay away from the news for a while. I really don’t get what the big deal is. What century are they living in?"

Okay, hold on, a lot happened in that ten seconds while the caffeine hasn’t quite kicked in yet. She looks back and forth between them. "Like you? I didn't know." _That’s the luckiest, best bad decision I’ve ever made._ The memory is vague, the crushing headache she had in the morning significantly clearer. Kyuhyun comes back, wraps his arms around her shoulders, a mirror of their friends. She can see his grin in the bottom-right corner.

“Yeah, it’s great! I can pick how b-mmph!” The enthusiastic and intrepid contribution that Henry attempted to make is forcibly reined in by Ryeowook’s hand clapping over his mouth. Probably for the best. Whenever Henry gets that gleam in his eye, mildly inappropriate is the floor, not the ceiling.

“Will you _shut up_ about that,” Ryeowook hisses, not quietly enough. _I bet this is the only time he’s ever regretted that his mic is too **good** ,_ she thinks, chuckling. Henry’s slowly being released with a wary look, Ryeowook’s hand still hovering nearby.

“But the vi-blrgl!” Henry doesn’t get far this time. Sungmin really, _really_ doesn’t want to know. Kyuhyun’s smothering his guffaw into the side of her head, which makes her laugh harder in turn from the tickling.

“I’m revoking your talking privileges,” Ryeowook says, turning away from Henry’s ensuing pout and back to them. “Kyuhyun-ah! Are you taking good care of noona?" He asks, cheerily, without any enmity or worry. Okay, maybe a little worry, but probably not about how well Kyuhyun’s treating her, just the usual giant list. The spirit of Henry’s comment is made quite clear by his combination of hand motions, leering, and eyebrow wagging, luckily obscured when Donghae pops back in.

“Hyukjae’s mad that you didn’t tell him sooner.” He turns back to the phone. “Wait a second,” he says into it, and turns back to her.

“I understand. Tell him I’m sorry, and that I’m really grateful for everything.” Of course, it seems so easy now, but Sungmin can’t imagine getting the words out any earlier, not that she meant for it to spread in ripples like this. She knows Hyukjae won’t stay mad for long anyway.

“Okay!” Donghae says brightly. He turns back to his phone and wanders out of the frame. “No, I know, I got it, it’s like…” trails off after him.

Kyuhyun’s just grinning and nuzzling her ear, making her giggle. “Our Kyuhyunnie is doing an excellent job.” Her chest feels hollow inside, everything feeling like she might float away at any moment. It’s all too much, but she refused to take the alternative then and she’s still refusing it now. She’s sure it shows on her face the way she’s never let it before. “Don’t worry about me. Please.” _I’m the one who can’t take it if you worry_ is left unsaid.

Donghae peeks in again. “Teukie-hyung says congratulations, but I don’t think he understands what’s going on.” His lost expression pushes a laugh out of her. Some things really never change, even at their age. No matter how hard it is, it’s never too late to start all over. “Ow, stop yelling!” Donghae winces and holds the phone away from his ear. “He’s saying he’s too old to care about what makes us happy, just be happy already. Idiot.” He turns back again. “Oh, I’m the idiot? Why am I passing messages anyway?”

“Donghae-yah. Donghae-yah!” Henry’s kind enough to poke Donghae for her until he pays attention. “It’s okay, I’ll call him later. Tell him to text me what time he’s free next.”

“Got it!” And there goes Donghae again. She tucks her hair behind her ear with the hand not pressed over Kyuhyun’s. Ryeowook leans closer on the screen.

“I’m proud of you. I don’t care what anyone else says.” He turns to Henry and sighs. “Fine, you can talk again.” Henry beams so hugely that Ryeowook’s adoration is unmistakable. Sungmin would envy them if she had any reason to.

“Yeah, I’m proud of you too. Let me know if I can help with anything when you get back, okay? We gotta stick together. I’ll email you some links later,” Henry says.

 _We. There really is a we, even after all the trouble I’ve caused._ Donghae ambles back in again, her phone chirps, and the glacial pace of her smile means it takes her by surprise when her cheeks start hurting.

“I really need to get going. Bye, noona, Kyuhyun-ah! Come visit me soon! Bring me back something nice!” Even as she waves, she misses Donghae already. _He’s so sweet._

“Bye,” Kyuhyun says. He’s been surprisingly quiet this whole time. She looks at him suspiciously.

“You haven’t been saying much, honey.”

“What, and miss out on the entertainment? I’ve got plenty to work with when we get back.” She considers biting his hand, but decides that would only make him more insufferable in the long run.

*

The breeze cools her face nicely on the balcony while Kyuhyun warms her back, holding her loosely with his arms encircling her middle. The moon and stars are a silent comfort, steadfast companions listening to her thoughts for years. She’s not going to stay here forever, but it’s plenty for now.

“So, why Paris?” He asks with mild interest, swaying the both of them side to side, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I loved it when we were here. The views are so wonderful. You don’t remember?” Sungmin sighs contently, following his lead and shifting right, left, right. It’s almost dancing. It could be, if she wanted it. Everything’s imbued with a sense of potential.

“Oh, I had a wonderful view the whole time, but I don’t remember what Paris looked like,” he murmurs. _How corny_ , she thinks, giggling when his teeth take hold of her earlobe without pressing. This time, she doesn’t say it out loud because she loves it and doesn’t want to pretend otherwise.

Speaking of not pretending otherwise… “I love you,” she says. It’s finally the easiest thing she’s ever done.

There’s a lot she hasn’t yet made decisions about, both her body and her future. No guarantees to be had, but an abundance of love and all the boldness she can hold are hers. She’s not giving up. She’s nowhere near done - she's just getting started.


End file.
